#but today I found this painting in a dingy alley and for the first time it was worth it

[mercurialmilk]

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 09

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Masterlist

…

I went downstairs to see two of my estranged roommates, Allison and Luther with somber looks on their faces. I was about to speak up but stopped once I saw who they were looking at. It was Grace, who no longer moved or sang or comforted us.

She was dead, and I know robots aren’t alive but this felt like another death I'd have to witness.

“The two guys last night, the ones with the mask, did this to her,” Allison said to Luther. The two didn't look up to see me, both were in their heads at the death of their mother.

Grace was sitting in the painting room chair, the space we kids dubbed as her bedroom because she didn’t sleep or have one of her own. The only thing that was missing from her was her signature smile and her normal pale arm. Instead, her arm was sliced open by what looked like a knife and oozed out wires of all different colors.

I don’t remember the two gunmen carrying knives last night but who knows they could've gotten crafty. But It's sad to think If she was a real person, I would’ve been able to save her.

I made my presence known by stomping my shoe and moving closer to the pair. Allison's eyes slightly lit up once she saw me. “You’re okay!” She sighed happily.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I giggled with my arms open as she ran over to embrace me. Luther did not move from Grace's body though, his face was cold and distant. I didn't want to ask but I started to think, what happened last night?

“Oh god, have you seen Mom yet?” She whispered. “This has to do with Five somehow. I mean they were looking for him..”

I frowned. “I haven't seen him or Klaus in some time now and I'm starting to get nervous.”

Allison reassures me that they'll turn up but she turns back to Luther who has something to say. “I know I was arguing to turn Grace off, but it doesn't make seeing her like this any easier.”

“Poor Diego.” I blurt out. “This is gonna be so hard for him.” I couldn’t see eye to eye with him, like ever. But I did see him a bit differently after yesterday.

“Yeah, it's hard on all of us.” He says while walking out of Grace's room.

“Hey, wait,” I called out to Luther before he left. The giant man turns to look at me, uncertainly. “I know it was you last night, the one who saved me. I just want to say thank you for pulling that guy away from me.”

“You’ve saved me in my lifetime more times than I can count. I can tell something is off about you guys today and I don’t think I was awake to hear it but. I just wanted to say thanks.” I smile at him.

“But anyways you guys should talk. I'm going to go look for Klaus.” I shoot Allison one more goodbye before heading out.

“I'm glad you're okay, Y/n” I hear one of them mutter as I leave.

..

“Klaus?” I yell all around the mansion. By now I've checked all his normal spots. His room, my room, Ben’s room, the kitchen, Reginald’s bar, all the bathrooms and all the random nooks and crannies we'd hide in as children with Ben.

Ben.. to think I've been so preoccupied these past days to think about him. And I think about him all the time. He'd know where Klaus was instantly, he was just that type of person.

I go back upstairs to my room to change before heading outside. To check Klaus's frequent spots around town.

First, the alley where he'd buy drugs and all kinds of things. It was dingy and dark but I'd find him here a lot back when I was younger. I left the mansion but never left him. Even let him crash with me at my ex's house whenever he needed to, which my ex was never happy about. We found happiness in walking the streets and laughing with each other till sunrise.

But it wasn't always good, sometimes I'd catch him in a rough spot due to drugs and he'd push me away. I never stopped trying, I would never give up on him and he wouldn't if i was in his spot.

Next was my actual apartment. I hadn't been back in forever, maybe he got tired of the academy and came here? But my apartment was small and didn't have many places for him to hide, it was clear he wasn't there either.

The last place I could think of was a park we used to go to as kids. There'd be days when Reginald was less diligent about watching us, and after dark all of us kids would escape to come here. And have at least a few hours of solace before returning to hell.

I took a seat against a large tree that blocked the sunlight from shining in the park. He wasn't anywhere I'd known he would be. I thought he wouldn't leave town without telling me, but I'm not even sure. I let out small huffs of frustration as I buried my head in my hands.

Suddenly there were more tears on my head than there were in my eyes. I sniffle while looking up. The once-cloudy sky has turned into pouring rain and I'm outside without an umbrella.

..

14 YEARS AGO

“Are we ready to go?” Asked Klaus.

The three of us, Klaus, Ben and I decided we were leaving for the park. After a particularly hard day and mission, it was clear I needed out. Ben asked everyone if they wanted to go, but they all looked at each other then us and snickered.

They told us we should go just the two of us. We actually were about to leave, but Klaus was the only one stupid enough to join us. Just kidding.

The sky was clear this day but dark, meaning it was a clear indication that it was time. Diego and Allison told us they'd distract Reginald if he asked anything. We knew we couldn't go out the front door, instead we went out my window.

Klaus was the first one to jump down; he insisted that he was the bravest out of all of us. And Ben slowly followed after him.

That left me in the window, looking down at the very tall jump I'd have to land. I shook my head at the two. “Why couldn't we have left down Five's window? There are actual steps there!” I whisper yell.

Klaus chuckles. “We're already here, just jump!”

I know when jumping from a high distance without a cushion landing spot, it would help if you didn't look down. But my eyes were glued to the ground anyway. I would be fine if I jumped, any scars would go away but just the thought of it made me shake.

“Unless you're a chicken! That's okay, me and Benny will go without you.” He yells.

“Keep your voice down,” Ben says, elbowing him in the stomach. “Ow!” Klaus cries. Ben looks up at me. “But he's got the right idea! You'll be okay just jump.” He says stuffing his hands in his black jacket.

“Just go without me! I'll go to bed.” I reply, trying to smile at the pair.

“Y/n, listen to me. You'll be okay, jump and..” I didn't hear the last part of what he said.

“What??!” I yell.

“He said he's gonna catch you!” Klaus snickers. “Shut up Klaus,” Ben whispers back. “I will though, if I have to!”

I sigh not wanting to ruin their fun, I'm the one who wanted to go out anyway. “Okay, I'll jump.”

I take a small running start before leaping out of my large window. The wind in my hair felt great, it made me feel like I was almost flying. Until I looked down at the floor I was about to land on. I closed my eyes as I was about to scream and go head-first into the ground. But as I opened my eyes I saw that the cement never smacked me in the face. Instead, I land on someone else.

Ben tried his best but he is still a boy. He held his arms open but it ended with him knocking into the cement and me gripping onto his black hoodie for dear life. I quickly get off him and pull him to his feet as Klaus hollers in laughter at us.

Once he got up I could tell that Ben's head looked a little bruised as well as his hands. I placed my hands on his and watched as yellow wisps of light reached all of his bruises. "Thanks." He smiled and I nodded back. I stopped holding his hands when I heard Klaus almost falling back in laughter.

"You guys-" I cut him off before he embarrasses me by kicking him in the shins with all my might. "Not another word," I mutter.

He held onto his legs and whimpered in pain, now it was our turn to laugh at him on the way to the park. I did eventually heal him that day but seeing him embarrassed was too funny to see go away. We did this several more times, just the three of us. And honestly, it was probably more fun than the whole group.

..

PRESENT DAY

I laugh underneath the now suddenly wilting tree at the thought, but it slowly turns into sobs. I don't have Ben anymore but I've somewhat come to understand that, but now I lost Klaus too. And Vanya is gone, I'm truly all alone. I sit there for what I think is hours, thinking back. Until the constant pour turns into drizzling and I stand up to go back to the academy. Maybe take a bath.

I slowly made it to a crosswalk so lost in thought that I didn't even see that it said I can go. But I am brought back to reality by the sound of a honking car. Some dick in a van was honking his horn at me?

What I did to piss this guy off I do not know, this was above even a catcall. He was demanding I move. Deciding to ignore the shithead I start to cross the road, until he almost runs me over.

“There's a crosswalk sign, do you see that?” I yell at the van. But the ugly vehicle would not stop honking at me, after being soaked in the rain I'm starting to lose my sanity. So I walked over to the van, thinking I was going to lay into this man and give him all the rage I'd been feeling. And maybe kick his car a few times.

I look at the man's window to see it's not a man at all. It's a boy? I know this shithead. “Five? Why are you honking at me!” I scream at the pubescent boy.

“Get in.” He yells back.

..

The two of us sat in silence for a while. I watched this fake teenager drive around and honk at people who were being stupid like a full-grown adult.

“Why are you here?” I ask, feeling uncomfortable in my wet clothes. “I'm looking for someone, I saw you walking.” He mutters.

“Oh okay..” I pause.

“I was calling your name before I started honking at you. You should really look where you're going.”

“I was fine. Aren't you the one who tried to run me over?”

“...”

“I have a question. Where'd you steal this van?”

“I didn't steal it, I borrowed it from a man in an alley.” he insisted. “Very likely story Five,” I remark back.

“I'm going to give it back. whenever I'm done with it.

“Okay new question, how do you know how to drive?”

“I can do everything.”

I scoff. “Yeah okay.”

“Well, I have a question for you. Why are you walking alone without an umbrella?”

“Just for shits and giggles, I'm looking for Klaus, have you seen him?”

“Can't say that I have. Where do you want me to drop you off?” He says while taking a familiar path that will lead us back to the academy.

I turn to look at him with my eyebrows furrowed. “Can't I stay? Join you on your spy missions?” Five looks at me, clearly not keeping his eyes on the road. Almost in shock about me wanting to stay with him. To break the silence I force a cough. “I mean I don't know what else to do right now. I can leave If I'm cramping your style.”

“Okay” is all he says while turning in the opposite direction from the mansion. “Well, that means we are going to find someone.”

“Who?” I ask.

“You'll see,” Five tells me.

Five parked us in another familiar part of town, where Klaus, him and I were not even a day or two ago. “Oh no, Five we're gonna terrorize these people again?” I said while looking around.

“No, we're just going after the main man. I need more answers.” Five peers out the side window to look at a different busy street.

“You really think he's going to give you more information if you just barge into his office again?”

He turns back to me. “We're not going in, we're going to him.”

“Oh my god..”

Five explains that he plans to corner the man in his own car after he comes back from whatever hobby he does while out of the office. I try to tell him that this plan is going to go wrong but of course he doesn't listen. He reached into his glove compartment and grabbed a small pocket knife, and I'm sure he didn't just grab it to look cool.

“You told me you're going to ask for more information, Five,” I questioned while reaching for the knife.

He grabs the weapon back and holds it higher in the air. “Let's see where the night takes us.”

..

Five blinks him and I next to a tree, like the one I was at earlier. The tree faces a blue car that must've belonged to the guy whose name slipped my mind.

Not long after he walks toward us, with a tiny puppy in hand. He looked almost unrecognizable out of his lab coat, but not in a good way. His clothes reminded me of a jogging outfit they also matched his blue car.

He opens the car and places his puppy into the back seat then he starts to get into the car himself. Before he can sit down Five pulls me with him when he blinks into the car. Sitting me down in the backseat with the puppy who surprisingly is not barking at me yet.

Five blinks into the front seat, but the man doesn't even notice him. Only flinching back when Five lunges at him with his pocket knife.

“Oh, Jesus!” He cries out. Five doesn't even give him another moment to think before going straight into grilling. “One chance. That's all you got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab.” He yells, putting the knife up to the man's throat.

So much for the peaceful approach. The man moves his eyes towards me for a split second and then back to the terrifying Five. “I… I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market.” He stutters.

“including eyeballs?” Five asked.

The man gulps. “Yeah, they're my biggest seller. I mean they sell like hotcakes. I--I've got a list, a waiting list, probably twenty buyers.”

“So the serial number, my uh, brother gave you..” He finishes my sentence. “Could've already been bought. Yes, off– off the books.” He says.

Five huffs like he's a chain smoker and starts to get more tense, letting the knife get centimeters away from the man's skin.

“I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!” Five screeches.

I take my eyes off them to turn to the dog that's nearing closer to me. At first, I tried to keep my distance but this puppy insisted on getting close. Which shouldn't be a big problem. It's a small dog, but something was off. I'm squeezing myself practically against the door to get away from this dog but he keeps getting closer. I close my eyes and I'm back to that day so many years ago.

I'm not there anymore, it's time for me to move on but I can't. My hands start to shake and my body runs cold. I couldn't help but think that this dog knew what I did to the other, way back when and wanted to take revenge.

While taking deep breaths I turned my head slowly to get a better look at the pup.. this dog wasn't going to hurt me, it didn't know what I did, and I was okay. So why do I feel like this?

“I don't have it. I mean, not on me. The only copy is in my safe at the lab.” Lance's words break my deep breaths and I try once again to focus on their conversation. This is for Five, as well as saving the world. Letting my depressing nature go is what I need to do now.

“Well, you start the car, then.” Five whispers. “Cause we're going on a field trip.” He slowly takes the knife off Lance's throat.

“O-Okay...” Lance tries to put himself back together at least enough to put his seatbelt on.

“Now.”

“Okay..”

..

Lance drives us back to the MeriTech headquarters which is also where Five’s van is. I'm the first to hop out of the car with Five and Lance a few steps behind me.

But I stopped in place once I saw dark smoke coming from the building. “Something’s wrong,” I told five. But he never stopped walking, and without a second thought, he rushed over to the fire. “Five wait!” I called out while chasing him down. Leaving Lance to his own devices.

The angry flames weren’t just in one room, it had spread throughout every single room in the building making it impossible to go inside. Five stopped at the entrance of the building when I caught up with him. We both stared at the building on fire.

“Get down!” I screamed over the sound of burning rooms as I tackled him to the ground. The flames rose from not just the building but towards us, causing an explosion of fire that could’ve killed him.

He wailed out at the sudden burst, but safely hit the ground. Me on the other hand, I was covered in marks. But thankfully my clothes were no longer wet, just slowly catching on fire. I dragged him out of the way more towards the street as I heard sirens in the distance.

“We need to move now,” I stress to Five but he doesn’t reply back. His eyes never break from the fire. “I know, I know but let’s go,” I say again hoping he would budge this time. But he didn't, so I grabbed him and pulled him back over to the van.

Once we get to the van without Lance, it is clear that whoever had lit the building on fire knew we were there. And I knew that because the front window was fogged with a message.

It read. “Your brother says hi.. brother? Which one.” I say out loud while thinking. Five finally started to move from his motionless state when I looked over at him. But he wouldn't be any help right now. The look on his face and the dullness in his eyes was a look I've seen on many people's faces before.

But then it hit me. “Klaus.”

…

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[soft-for-them]

a cup of tea for the handsome man ♡ geordi la forge x reader

anon: OKAY concept: Geordi had a failed valentines date, and reader (who crushes hard) is like “bruh hang out with MEEE” a la Taylor swifts “you belong with me”

gender neutral reader, geordi ain’t straight,

gif doesn’t really match but it’s cute ok! not proof read.

‘Maybe you can accompany my friend Geordi La Forge today.’ Data bluntly asks as you both walk down a stone covered street.

‘Data, I swear to the stars, stop!’ you whine to your android friend who currently still wears his yellow dress uniform despite it being shore leave.

‘I am only asking because Geordi seems to be by himself.’ Data holds up the cat carrier that he holds, wiggling his finger to Spot, ‘Please calm down Spot.’

You are Lieutenant (Y/n) (l/n), though most people call you (y/n) and ever since you have met Data you have both been found friends. You are interested in robotics and androids, so the friendship came naturally.

However, Data doesn’t have many out of work friends. He mostly hangs around you, Spot and a very handsome man by the name of Geordi La Forge.

‘Just because I’m your friend does not mean I’m automatically his, Data.’ You tug at the draw strings of your oversized hoodie straighten the out strings.

‘Yes, but you are technically mutuals for you both have me as your friend.’ Data looks at you with a blank stare, ‘And you are normally alone so you need another friend.’

If you haven’t been friends with the yellow tinted man then you would have told him off.

It is somewhat true; you do spend a lot of time in engineering and most of your really good friends are stationed on different ships. But you want to spend you shore leave on earth doing something fun, not awkwardly trying to befriend Geordi La Forge, a man you have fancied for quite a while.

If Data has some more common sense the he would see your heart eyes towards his dear friend but he doesn’t; all he sees is a hermit engineer who needs a buddy whilst Data isn’t around.

‘Data, why has this come on? I’m alone most of the time!’ you have plans and it doesn’t involve trying not to out your crush to a clueless Geordi or Data.

‘I just do not want my friends be lonely.’

Data’s eyebrows frown as you two stop in front of a veterinary practice.

‘Just because me and Geordi will be alone when you take Spot to get her check-up doesn’t mean we will be lonely.’

‘But you will both be alone.’ he deliberates.

‘We will be fine Data.’ You place a hand on your friend’s arm, ‘If you want, we can all meet up after Spot’s check up and I can officially meet Geordi, ok?’

‘I would like that very much (y/n).’ Data sincerely smiles.

He nods his head and then walks into the small vets.

 You shake you head in amusement at your dear friend’s worry as you begin walking down the street.

‘Data, data, data.’ You think with an amused smile blooming on your face.

For about ten minutes you wonder the streets aimlessly, looking at the plants that grown up the shop fronts and the old Roman roads. Benches are in the middle of the ‘roads’ that are really used for pedestrians to walk on, tram cars sliding by the painting like scenery.

Whilst wondering a small alleyway catches your eyes.

It’s not a dingy alleyway with bins and a dead end but it’s actually a little nook filled with cafes and small hobby shops.

Looking both ways you walk across the street into the alley, every bump of the pathway felt even in you tick soled trainers.

Passing a few shops your eyes land on a small round of metal tables, some filled with people, outside a small two-story café.

You walk in, a heartly woman automatically greeting you from the counter at the back. The place is very small and thin but it does not feel claustrophobic. There is a cottage core vibe to it, the place lit up by the huge widows at the front and the fairy lights shaped like hearts.

The downstairs seems to be the place to order food and drink, a peak of a small kitchen at the back can be seen from an open door past the counter.

‘Um hello.’ You say back to the woman whilst you wipe your feet on the welcome mat, ‘What’s good here?’

‘Well first are you allergic to anything my dear?’

You answer the question and tell the woman what kind of tea you like.

‘Well because today is Valentine’s day, we have our cake special that I think is perfect for you!’

You look at the slice of cake the woman points at in the little display case.

‘It’s freshly baked, I made it just this morning!’

‘Yeah, sure, it looks nice. I’ll have a slice.’ You need to indulge yourself every now and then.

She slides a cup of your favourite tea and a slice of cake to you. You pay with you card, leaving a good tip.

‘The upstairs is the best place sit.’ She says as you take your plate and cup.

 With a nod you ascend the steps to the upstairs to see the prettiest room you’ve ever seen.

The room’s roof is a giant glass window and there is many potted plants that look like they’re growing up the walls. Tables are littered around, each one with a different flower on it, some customers are using the built in holo computer screens.

You find a small two four person table near the back and you sit down breathing in the faint smell of pollen that doesn’t actually tickle your nose into a sneeze.

‘Hum, could be fake plants?’ you think as you take a sip of your tea.

.

.

For a while you just eat and browse the holo screen at your table, emersed and doom scrolling through blogs about robotics.

You had sent a message to Data telling him where you are and telling him to come here when he was done with Spot’s check up.

It must have been half an hour at staring at the screen. You had finished the pink decorated cake and your tea was almost done as well.

With achy eyes you peer up and look around the room.

There seems to be the same people albeit a couple new faces.

In on corner to your right is a mother with her child who you hadn’t noticed, an older person sits clicking on old keyboard laptop and a new younger man sits waiting next to the giant window overlooking the alleyway.

Even though this man is far away you can tell that he’s a good looking man. Said person wears a short sleeve patterned button down reminiscent of the 1990’s, the blues stripes bold against the cottage core interior of the café. The shirt is tucked into some brown slacks, that are rolled up at the bottom and held up by a shiny black belt. Block coloured peek out from his trousers and equally shiny black shoes.

If you would try to pull off such a vintage outfit but all you ever wear is your work uniform or oversized hoodies, making you look like a in debt college student. Right now you look like a in debt college student in your Starfleet branded hoodie and shorts that are comfy but childish in colour scheme.

‘I bet this café attracts all the fashionable types.’ You think sipping the last of your tea only to spit out in surprise.

The man in the retro shirt turns around only to reveal a very familiar yellow and silver visor.

‘Fuck, he’s even more good looking!’ your mind becomes scrambled, ‘Was he always there? Does he know I’m here? Should I go over and say hi?’

Your eyes stay on Geordi as he keeps on peering out of the big window, him looking like he’s waiting for someone.

‘Maybe he’s waiting for Data?’ it’s a logical assumption that Data told him to meet him in the café you are in. A check up for a cat doesn’t take that long right?

 You leave you cup and plate on you table and start to edge your way over to the handsome man.

You’re not sure if what you’re doing is right but you step next to his table, with a big smile on your face and hand raised up in a too enthusiastic wave.

‘Geordi La Forge, right?

Geordi’s snaps up to yours, his face looks slightly confused in that puppy kid of way.

‘Sorry, I’m (y/n), Data’s friend.’ you stop waving so you don’t look so odd, ‘Um, I saw you here and wanted to say that Data will be coming here after Spot’s vet appointment. Sooooo, if you want to join, my table is free.’

Whilst you happily talk Geordi’s face morphs into a sweet smile. You quickly look down to his two person table to see to sets of cups and two slices of heart themed cupcakes, clearly for another half.

‘Though you don’t have too if you have plans.’

‘He talks about you a lot.’ Geordi declares, ‘Too much sometimes.’

‘Well I am a brilliant person.’ you lean against the window trying to look cool but the hoodie you drown in just makes you look dishevelled.

There is an awkward pause before you just stop leaning as start walking away.

‘I see you might be busy, so I’m over here-‘ you point over to your table, ‘-yeah.’

With some more muttered pleasantries you shuffle back to your table hoping tha he doesn’t find you too weird. With you bum on the seat you wave you hand at the holo screen unlocking it from it’s sleeping state before quickly looking up to catch Geordi looking at you.

With another odd wave you hunch down and resume reading an article cybernetic enhancements in the medical field but every ten minutes or so you have to look up at Geordi.

One time you looked up he was staring out the window, another time he was stirring his drink like it was the most interesting thing in the world, and now you’re looking at him rapidly typing out something on a communicator.

With your tea and cake devoured you quickly stand up to go downstairs to order some more tea. You look around and hope that no one takes your table, the tope floor is pretty empty now, and the holo screen on the table is still on.

It takes about five minutes but you bound up the stairs with not one but two cups of tea.

Hurried you head over to Geordi’s table and slide him one of you cups, making the man look up to you with another look of confusion.

‘Hot tea turned cold isn’t the best so I got you another cup.’ and with another small wave you walk back your table.

‘Smooth (y/n), he’s going to like me now!’ a Cheshire cat grin blooms as you take a sip of you drink.

As you fangirl/fanboy over your ‘move’ a person slides in the seat opposite you.

 ‘Is it still ok to sit.’ Geordi asks holding his cup of tea.

‘Well you’re technically already sitting down.’ you turn of the holo screen with your hand, ‘But you can stay, if that’s what you’re asking.’

You look at Geordi, gaze unchanged, confidence oozing out of you.

‘I’d imagine that Data will be here soon.’ you lean forward a bit, ‘So we should acquaint each other before he does.’

‘I guess you already know who I am. I know who you are… thank you for the tea by the way.’

‘I don’t want to be a nosy so and so but why were you alone.’ You ask hoping you don’t sound rude.

‘I can ask the same thing to you.’ He quips back.

‘Had nothing to do and went exploring, found thing place. You?’ you press.

‘I got stood up.’ He plainly puts it, ‘Was chatting to someone in engineering and yeah…’

Geordi looks deflated as he gulps his drink.

‘Which dick stood you up, I can set my robot on them.’ he looks up at you with a bright smile.

‘You have a robot?’

‘It’s my thing.’

Another pause o silence happens before Geordi speaks.

‘Lieutenant James Sibell.’ as he says the name a disgusted scoff comes from you lips, your face distorted in disgusted.

‘That bastard man!’ you hand fly up in a comical rage, ‘Good job you have me to keep you company.’

Geordi laughs at your words, a small pit of joy growing in his heart, he must tell Data later that he has a good friend in you and that he should have introduced you two sooner.

.

.

Data step up the stairs of the café, spot in her cat carrier, and a slice of cake.

He only bought the cake out of curiosity, the cake having rainbow icing and little sugar heart shaped sweets on top.

When he gets to the top he automatically scans the room. His eyes land on a table near the back, his two closets friends chatting together, both sitting rather close.

.

.

.

i have no clue if this is good. it’s long-ish but that doesn't necessarily equate to it being the best.

please tell me if it’s good or not.

[fascination-street-writing]

Stealing Past the Windows | Platonic Leone Abbacchio x Reader

You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

Content Warnings: Prostitution & Dubious Consent

You wish you were a mortician so that maybe – just maybe – you could be used to death. You long for the ability to shut away your grief, to turn it off as if it is nothing more than a lightbulb that hangs above your head – to flip the switch.

Your mother leads you towards the parking lot behind the cathedral. You have only just fastened the seatbelt over your lap when you notice him: the mortician standing next to a dumpster, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His necktie is loose and his hair a disarray. He pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales a cloud of smoke. Perhaps morticians were not as used to death as you thought.

Something taps against the windshield. Pattering, uneven beats, not unlike the pianist’s scant repertoire from the procession. You wish that your mother would have hired someone better, someone who was not the sostituo commissario coordinatore’s daughter.

“It’s raining,” your mother remarks, her voice no louder than a whisper. Rain – of course it rains today of all days. She sighs and grips the steering wheel. If her hands were not covered by her black gloves, you might see that her knuckles are white. “They never said it would rain. How are we supposed to bury him in this?”

You realize that, perhaps instead of death, you long to become better acquainted with unpredictability: the death of your father, rain during a funeral, a lousy pianist . . . And Leone Abbacchio’s sunset-colored eyes meeting your gaze from across the parking lot. You bring your hand to your mouth and bite down on your curled pointer-finger to keep from calling out to him – what are you doing here? Permanent suspension and a slanderous newspaper article were not enough to satiate the part of you that yearns for his retribution.

Your mother follows the hearse, but you do not dare to look away, even as the car turns onto the street. You want him to see the anguish that he has caused for you and your mother. You hope it is enough to keep him awake at night.

If, even after everything, a mortician and death are no more than steely work associates, then surely a distance exists between a prostitute and sexual intimacy. You never let the men take you from the front: your fleeting decency is preserved by the sorrow that suffocates you each time you are forced to solicit yourself to pay off your mother’s debts. You tell yourself that it is better this way – better than starving on the streets or lying dead in a dumpster, a proper unmarked grave.

Adaptability has helped you to cope with unpredictability. Now, you pray for blindness. Blindness so that you no longer face the men who leer and lead you into alleyways and dingy hotel rooms; blindness to forget that home is nothing more than a moth-ridden mattress, vacant memories, and a box fan; blindness, so the sounds of mice scurrying in the rafters become your mother teetering on loose floorboards as she stands over the kitchen table and prepares dinner.

Blindness so that you might forget the callousness of solitude.

A gust of air reaches for you. You tug your skirt over your thighs, a feeble attempt to ward of the chilling temperature.  The waiting comes with confliction, for in the moments when you are alone, you are glad to be untouched. And yet, trepidation reminds you that a prostitute who does not meet her nightly quota is expendable. Your mother learned that – her final anecdote to you was a bullet.

Two women stand across the street. The glow of a cigar illuminates the space between them. An emaciated feline stalks down the sidewalk; she carries a kitten in her mouth.  Footsteps – a man approaches you, his hands buried in the pockets of his striped dress slacks. He leans into the wall, only inches from you. He smells of tobacco smoke – you never cared for tobacco smoke. You blame it on your father’s influence.

You name your price, and he grabs your wrist. “I just want you to suck me off,” he sneers before pulling you into the alley. The air there is heavy: already, you have forgotten how to breathe.  “You only get paid if you swallow. Got it, puttana?”

You nod. The pavement bites the skin of your knees. Your palms grow clammy. A knot forms in your belly. It never gets easier. The reflective surface of his belt’s silver buckle is an unwanted mirror. Sunken eyes stare back as you fumble with the latch. You no longer recognize yourself – it is a stranger’s gaze that watches your movements. You are a woman drowning, yet desperate for a glass of water.

Fingers pry at your arms. For a moment, you are airborne as he lifts you from the ground and pins you to the wall. His breath curdles in your ear – the rasp of his tone and the overwhelming scent of charred leather confirms that he is indeed a smoker and not a victim of secondhand exposure: “I’ve changed my mind. Ti sto fottendo.”

You shiver, but not because you are cold, even though the night air assaults your bare legs, which have been freed of your tight mini-skirt; pink polyester gathers at your ankles, tethering you. His teeth graze the crook between your shoulder and neck. His body cages you. The breeze wafts through your hair, gentle tresses clinging to his skin. In another life, he might have been a lover. But a lover does not pay you for sex.

Your fear turns to ash and dies on your tongue. Every gasp for air is an inhalation of his scent – stale cigarettes. It laces through your throat and burns you alive.

You wait until you are sure that he is gone before you pull your skirt up. Your core throbs. Your legs tremble. Your backend meets the ground as your knees fail you. The money lies just beyond your reach, but you cannot bear to touch it. The mere thought of even looking at it sends a jolt of nausea through you.

It can stay there a little longer – it is not pride that compels you to leave the money be: it is dignity.

You do not notice that you are crying until you feel the familiar sting in your eyes.  An anguished scream tears itself from your mouth as you slap the ground and kick into the rusted trashcan beside you. It topples over – you wish to be buried alive in food scraps and disposed condoms because it is not better this way.

A tawny colored beer bottle shatters at your feet: a mosaic of glass shards. In each broken piece laid out before you, you see your reflections – in every groove, ripple, and adhesive spotting that has been left behind by a missing label. One shard is your father’s funeral and a smoking mortician, and another shard is the eternally frozen face of your dead mother, and another shard is the first man whom you sold your virtue to.

And yet, one shard is a series of train tickets, from Napoli to the lavender fields of Aix-en-Provence, and another shard is a glass of Bordeaux Red that you share with a lover on a balcony overlooking the plaza of Place Richelme, and another shard is a newborn babe nestled in the white laces of her bassinet, the glow of the setting evening sun stealing past the window of the nursery and painting the walls with a glorious apricot light. And among them all, shards of men whose touches and faces blend together, shards of hands that wring your neck. Perversion, starvation, and seclusion. Mice in the rafters, a battered mattress, and a box fan.

What good is a pretty future if you must suffer for it first? You realize, as your fingers float over the glass shards, that you have been on this journey to Aix-en-Provence – to somewhere better than Napoli – your entire life: that you are sitting on a train, still, though once you thought it moving. You are forever rooted in place.

Your scuffed stiletto grinds the glass into the concrete. Happiness demands too much from you. You stomp each shard until they split and become a million more pieces – so small that they no longer speak to you.

The final shard is a pair of sunset-colored eyes and silver hair. You freeze, your foot suspended above the piece of glass. You meet his gaze from across the alley. You want to bite your finger – it is a nervous habit that you had promised to quit after the funeral, after your mother had found you bandaging your bleeding hand with toilet paper in the bathroom at the burial site; she had never forgiven you for staining your dress.

You cannot look away from him, even as he drops the paper brown grocery bag snagged around his wrist in favor of ushering you into his arms and onto your feet – your head on his chest, held in place by a single hand that coaxes through your hair. You do not bother to push him away, because it feels good to be held; though every fiber of your being tells you to loathe this man, you find that you cannot. Hatred costs too much energy, causes too much stress; you do not need either. When he pulls away to inspect your face, you do the same to him. His mouth moves, but you do not hear the words that fall from his lilac-painted lips. The dark rings beneath his eyes are rival to yours. You wonder how much sleep he has lost, for every night spent thinking of you.

Steam from the coffee mug wafts into the air in a delicate spiral. At this hour, the café is nearly empty. A man with lavender-blonde hair types into his laptop computer; he lifts his beverage to his lips without tearing his gaze from the screen. Aside from him and an older woman, who is clipping coupons from a newspaper, you and Leone Abbacchio are the only other customers. It is a sharp contrast to the usual bustle during the day; without the business men fighting for their morning espresso shots or the mothers stopping for a pastry after sending their children off to school for the day, it feels like a graveyard.

The soft hum of the kitchen radio echoes through to the dining room. The coupon-clipping woman taps her foot to an offbeat cadence. You tug Leone’s jacket by the lapels, securing it tautly to your skin. He had insisted that you wear it, because of the cold. Truthfully, you know that it is for modesty’s sake. Regardless of the reason, you are grateful. He clasps his own porcelain mug but does not drink. Perhaps it is still too hot, you wonder.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or not,” you finally say. Macchiato pools on your tongue. It has been far too long since you have had coffee that was not made from instant crystals; you savor it. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if not for you, after all. But, the caffè is a nice gesture.”

His teeth graze his bottom lip. “I’m sorry,” he says with hesitation. “I’m sorry for what happened. For what I did.”

“You’re wasting your time, saying you’re sorry, because there aren’t enough apologizes that could even begin to make things right. An apology won’t bring my father back. An apology won’t bring my mother back.”

He shudders and sighs. “I know . . . I know that.”

An uncomfortable silence hovers over your heads. At last, Leone drinks his coffee; it is a much-needed distraction from the conversation that has haunted him until this moment. His greatest fear has been to face the family of the man he had indirectly killed. It was a mistake to have gone to the funeral – he knows that; he was never sure what to expect that day. The sight of your mother following the hearse in her station wagon while you stared him down, until finally you disappeared, had shaken him – he fell to the bottle that very night.

Leone’s cellphone vibrates atop the table. The green screen casts a reflection upon the window beside you. Flashing digital numbers tell you that is is 23:13 – you only have forty-seven minutes to give the money to your procurer. You instinctively pat your pocket. The money is not there. Upon the realization that you have forgotten it back in the alley, where it is no doubt buried under the fallen trash of your breakdown, you down the rest of your drink. “Thank you for the coffee,” you say to Leone. “I should get going – I need to get back to work.”

His brow furrows. “You’re not going back there,” he says to you, a strange inflection in his tone – worry or anger, you cannot tell the difference.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do.” His bark is beguiling, and it commands you to stay seated. For every moment that he stalls, the knot in your belly constricts tighter and tighter, until it feels as though your intestines might burst. When he speaks, a gust of air rushes through you: “Let me . . . Let me try to make things right. Let me start by getting you out of there.”

You tense at his words. “You speak as if you think it’s easy to get ‘out of there,’” you sneer. “As if you think you could actually help me.”

“I’ll pay off your mother’s debt,” he insists with a sudden burst of confidence.

It is your turn to stiffen. “How do you know about that?” It is then that you take in his appearance in earnest – his clothing looks expensive, even though he is clad in only a sweater and jeans. You doubt that his makeup came from a drug store. If exorbitance had a scent, it would be that of his cologne: woodsy and sweet. He could never have afforded these things on a poliziotto’s salary. “You work with them, don’t you?”

“No.” The waitress leans over the table to top off Leone’s mug. He offers her a nod and she pledges a smile. She scurries back to the counter in a flurry of floral-pattern skirts. The way he avoids answering your first question tells you enough: you understand that it is far too complicated to be uttered aloud in a public space. “I just know the right people.”

“I don’t want your help,” you tell him, albeit too quickly. Dignity compelled you from taking the money in the alleyway. But it is not dignity that holds you from accepting money from a former dirty cop: it is ego laced in hubris. And it is his bribery, shrouded in penitence, that beckons for your clemency. “I don’t need your help.”

“Stop this.” His words scorn you. “Don’t let yourself get killed because of your pride. I know what happens to women like you. You’re not a human being to them: you’re nothing more than a money-maker. Damn it, I’ve seen girls younger than you that – “ he cuts himself off. “Getting killed over the grudge you hold against me – it’s not worth it.”

“I can’t accept help from the man who ruined my life. It means you’ll expect me to forgive you.”

“I’m not looking for forgiveness. I just want to prove to you that I am sorry.” When you bring your pointer-finger to your mouth and bite down on your knuckle, he can see you in the station wagon again. Although, instead of a mourner’s garb, you wear a scanty skirt and a cropped blouse. “What about your father?”

You pull your finger away; a thread of saliva connects from your skin to your quivering lip. “Don’t you dare mention him,” you hiss. “Don’t act like you knew him: he was nothing more than a coworker to you.”

“It’s not for forgiveness. Let me help you because he would never want to see you like this.” You can practically hear the twitching of his jaw. A tear falls, and then another. And another. He wipes the back of his hand over his dampened cheeks. “He loved you – so much. More than I think he ever loved your mother, if you’d heard the way he spoke about you . . . One of the last things he ever said to me was how he couldn’t wait to see the type of person you’d become. Un dottore o un insegnante: it didn’t matter to him, so long as you were happy.” He looks away, as if he is ashamed to face you, though rightfully so. “I did know him. I knew the man who would have given anything for his famiglia – for you.”

Your heart aches – for your father or Leone or even yourself, you are not sure. While it pains you to admit it, the man sitting before you has uttered the truth. Your father would want you to accept Leone’s help. It might be your only chance for a fresh start – to usher the still train along. Suddenly, the lavender fields feel so close that all you need do is reach out to feel the purple tendrils within your grasp. Paradise is not too far.

You sigh, shakily, before you give him your answer: “Okay.”

You thought your response would satiate him – instead, the tears he sheds fall faster. He brings a hand to his forehead to pinch his temples between his thumb and ring-finger, to shield his face: a man torn apart by his own chagrin. His other hand is outstretched before him, fingers formed into a taut fist. You are sure that his nails will puncture his skin if he squeezes any tighter. The music from the kitchen stops. The woman places down her scissors and her newspaper. The man with lavender-blonde hair closes his laptop. The ticking of the wall-clock is the only sound that reverberates through the café. It is only minutes until the new day.

Leone Abbacchio is man frozen in his past. Despite the turmoil, despite the grief and accrued traumas, you do not hate him: though unable to move on, he is driven by audacity. You once thought him cowardly, but a craven would never have reached out to you: a craven would rob you of your second chance at life. You respect the weeping man seated across the table, so much so that you clasp your own hand over his fist as a gesture of solidarity. His breath catches in his throat as his quaking body stills. You have nothing to say to him – but no words could convey the thoughts that weave through your mind. His wrist rotates beneath your touch. Palm to palm, his fingers reach for yours and entwine.

Forgiveness is a virtue you cannot afford. You will not forgive him – not now – but you will heal: together.

| 3170 Words |

[lookingthroughmirrors]

I’m Not A Serial Killer - Chapter 1

Alex Centric - Willex & Jukebox

His dad was never there to cheer him on, his Mum was never there to wipe away the tears. There’s always been something about him that was just never enough, he was never enough. Not for the perfect family, not for their image, not for anyone it seemed.

‘I’m sorry I can’t be perfect’

Everything had been going downhill since the second he woke up. It spiraled until he wound up barely coherent in an alley that looked like it had walked straight out of a horror movie. He doesn’t remember much except for the yelling, and the pain. HOMELESS seems to flash like a neon sign above his head, maybe luck is why Julie chose to walk home through there but he’s not about to jinx the only good that came from the day.

AO3 Link    

~~~~~~~ Chapter 1 ~~~~~~~~~~

Julie kicks a pebble and watches as it rolls along the pavement, the sun shining down harshly causing a bead of sweat to roll down her face. Normally she’d be in school but with the heat wave it was decided to have school break early so there isn’t a risk of heat stroke. Julie’s dad is stuck at a shoot and was unable to cancel when she called him to make sure he knew she wasn't skipping. Adorning sunglasses she strolls happily down the street despite the heat. Not paying attention she rams straight into somebody hitting the deck with a solid thud. “Shit, wait-er sorry?” the person she collided with rambles slightly frantic.

Looking up she met with a boy her own age grasping a helmet in one hand and an old, slightly dingy looking skateboard in the other. Dropping the helmet he extends his hand out and she takes it with an appreciative smile hoping she doesn’t look too pissed. His wrist is adorned with multiple cord bracelets complementing his darker skin tone, hair as long as her own cascading down his back as he effortlessly pulls her back up onto her feet. “Thanks um-” “Willie, I’m Willie” he introduces with a charming smile “Julie”  “Sorry for running into you” he mutters sheepishly through a mischief filled lopsided grin.

“Don’t worry about it-shit, Flynn is going to kill me” she breaks off into a grumble forgetting about the guy that just flattened her scrambling to pick up the trashed sunnies. “Oh for fucks sake” she grumbles looking at the cracked lenses, one side of the frame snapped in half, a chuckle breaks through her mutterings and she whips round with a piercing glare. “Hate to break it to you but you can’t make me melt” the asshole continues to chuckle at her misfortune “ See ya Sunglasses” he calls cheerful getting the bird flipped in his direction, his laugh echoing as he skates off down the streets.

“Chivalry isn’t dead my ass” she grumbles, turning down an empty street only a few minutes away from her house, stopping short when a groan sounds in the desolate open street. A shriek escapes her mouth as she stumbles upon a boy her age looking half dead blood and dirt caking his body. He flinches at the sound but that doesn’t stop her from slowly approaching him, his eyes flickering open his gaze following her movements nervously. “Are you okay?” he lets a low groan at her words, clutching his rib tightly and she puts her hands out infront of her as she gets closer. “Will you let me help you?” Julie holds her breath realizing it after a few seconds pass and he gives her a jerky nod. Sliding an arm under his Julie helps him up, barely stumbling along as she tries to support most of his weight. It takes 10 minutes for her to stumble and limp to her house, knees nearly buckling under the other teens weight. Julie glances at the barely conscious teen with a huff “Here’s to hoping you’re not a serial killer” she mumble managing to get them inside the studio ignoring the wave of emotions that crash over her deciding to focus on the injured guy slumped over her lounge.

Since mystery boy is decidedly not going anywhere she deems it safe to leave him for a minute to track down the first-aid kit stashed somewhere. The only sound is Julie’s quietly muttered curses and the groaning from the injured boy every few seconds. Finally digging it up, it’s pretty trashy looking, washed out paint and a thick layer of dust making up the cover. Putting the case down and checking that he’s not dead she goes to get a bowl of water and a face towel. Coming back into the room she barely manages to skid to the side, nearly sending the bowl flying , as mystery boy barrels past emptying his stomach contents into the bin.

‘Mental note, get new bin for the studio’

“What is it with people and body slamming today?” she mutters with a roll of her eyes before her expression softens once again as she turns to the boy, arms hugging the bin close to his chest as dry heaves sounding in utterly pathetic. placing a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, he still flinches but not as bad as before. “ L-lu-” the boys mumbles his hands shaking, “ R-reg-” filing the names away for later she bites her lip staring helplessly as he gets more frantic mumbling unintelligibly. Making a split second decision she drags her fingers through his hair and the tenseness seems to melt away.

She’s not sure how long they end up sitting there in the silence, tension melting away from the boy as more time passes. As the golden hue of the afternoon light starts to shine through the window the beaten up teen starts to become coherent, eye’s not as unfocused and cloudy as before. He never quite passed out, almost vomiting every time he seemed to relax but he wasn’t really aware either.

His eyes flutter open and Julie only has a split second to register his eyes widening in panic before she stumbles backwards and the other teen darts to the other side of the studio eyes scanning the room frantically. “Hey, it’s okay” Julie says and the guys eyes dart to her still wringing his hands together nervously “I found you in an alleyway looking pretty beat up, I only brought you here to patch you up” while still radiating nervous energy he seems to calm down slightly at her words while still extremely wary, eyeing her suspiciously “How do I know you are telling the truth” without missing a beat she responds “How do I know you aren’t a serial killer?” eyeing her warily for a couple more seconds he finally lets his shoulders sag slowly walking towards her.

“Thanks” he stutters out “I mean-um for uh h-helping me and-and not leaving me in that alley” he rambles out through one breath bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. “It’s okay, I’m Julie” she tries to give him what she hopes is a comforting smile, he returns it with a faint smile “Oh uh, I’m-I’m Alex” Julie puts her hand out and he grasps it with his much larger one, shaking it gently.

“Um d-do you want me to leave?” Alex's voice squeaks at the end of his sentence, looking like he wants to do anything but leave and her mind flashes to what he looked like when she found him and she can’t find it in herself to make him leave when he obviously isn’t in a good spot. “Nah, we can chill out here if you want to, we can watch T.V?” he looks at her incredulously, obviously not believing her.

“Seriously it’s fine, as long as you don’t want to leave you don’t have to” she gives him a kind smile flopping down onto the lounge flicking the T.V on, Alex, albeit hesitantly, follows her lead sitting on the other end of the lounge. About 30 minutes pass of them mindlessly watching T.V before he speaks up, face littered in prominent bruises “You’re oddly cool with a random person at your house” he comments looking at her in slight amusement and she replies with a smirk “Well I figure if you planned to do anything to me you would’ve done it by now” he huffs out a laugh, stopping short with a grimace of pain Julie wincing in sympathy “I don’t think your ribs are broken, I tried to check but i’m not the best with this stuff so i’m not sure but i think it’s only bad bruised” Alex nods and they both turn back to the T.V talking back and forth.

“Julie!” her dad’s voice echoes Alex freezing panic, sitting up ramrod straight as Julie flounders “In the studio!” she calls back shrugging at Alex’s glare. Her Dad freeze’s when he sees that she isn’t alone, his gaze melting to concern when he sees Alex’s state, Julie immediately shooting up beelining towards her dad “Dad please don’t be mad, Alex and I are partners for a school project and I told him we could work here. When I was walking home I found him like this and helped him get here, I think he could be seriously hurt and I didn’t know what to do, please don’t send him away” Ray makes a shushing motion, placing his hands on Julie’s shoulder “Calm down mija, I’m not mad. Alex? That’s your name?” that jolts Alex making him jump up from the lounge that he’d previously been trying to sink into “Um. yes s-sir. Alex Mercer”

“Call me Ray. Why don’t you come in for dinner, you look like you could use some food, we can discuss everything afterwards, assuming you don’t have to go home?” his words end in a question and Alex ducks his head, scuffing his shoe against the floor “Yeah, uh, my parents aren’t exactly happy. They told me not to come back, they’ve never really cared, I guess” Ray looks absolutely heartbroken while Julie can’t stop herself from linking his fingers with hers.

“Come on, dinner’s getting cold. Let’s just eat first and talk everything over later” Ray nods towards the house, leaving Julie and Alex to scramble after him towards the house. Alex grips her wrist, tugging slightly to get her attention “Why’d you lie?” he asks and she looks at him with a raised eyebrow “You think he’d let some random person I just met stay in our house?” Alex rubs his neck sheepishly “Yeah, good point. If it helps I have actually seen you around at school before, I’m in year 10” Julie smiles at that, she thought she recognized something about him “I’m in year 10 too, at least we know it wasn’t a full on lie, only a white lie” Alex seems to relax at the idea of outright lying to someone opening their home to him “Thanks, I mean uh, again, yeah uh, thanks again” he stumbles on his words Julie laughs as they continue into her house.

Dinner passes incident free with everyone getting to know Alex, Carlos barely took a second to breath while asking Alex question after question. Carlos heads off to play some ghost hunter video game that he hasn’t stopped talking about while Ray moves the conversation to the lounge. “Okay” he claps his hands together in front of him sitting on the coffee table as Alex and Julie take a spot on the lounge, Julie hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. “Now mijo, I’m not going to send you away but the spare bedroom isn’t set up so I was thinking you could use the pull out couch in the studio until we work out everything. You are going to need to talk to your parents, I don’t know you well enough to say anything about it but you will need to talk to them, I won’t push as it’s not my place but you get it. Both of you have school tomorrow so don’t stay up too long, Julie you can only help set everything up out there before coming inside, both in rooms by 11, no later. Now I’ll leave you to watch a movie or something. I promise we will work everything out” with that Ray shakes Alex’s hand and placing a kiss on Julie’s head before going to his office to finish up some photo edits from a recent shoot.

“That went better than I thought” Julie mumbles and is immediately swooped up into a massive bear hug blonde hair flying in her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you” he mumbles repeatedly into her hair, she doesn’t say anything letting him hug her tightly. “Sorry, ‘bout that” he mumbles pulling back sheepishly “I get it, today’s been all over the place” Julie reassures, she knows his emotional outbursts are just from whatever happened to him that’s ended with him having to sleep in the garage of a girl he’s never met before, not exactly what you would call normal.

An embarrassed blush taints his cheeks, though Julie just gives him a smile and flicks on ‘ Ghostbusters’. Slowly they build up a conversation and in the end the movie is forgotten as the two are immersed in a debate of whose better ‘ lady Gaga’ or ‘Ariana Grande’, Ray could barely make out what they were saying with how fast they’re talking. He watches from the kitchen, he stuck his head out to check and his brain nearly short circuited when he heard the music discussion. Since his wife’s passing 2 years ago Julie never touched the piano and would never even mention anything to do with music, she would just shut down. Now there she was sitting and talking about music, a bright smile on her face with the bruised and beaten looking blonde teen.

Speaking of the blonde haired teen, Alex seemed more carefree too like he’s in his element talking about music. It’s the first time he’s seen Julie look so genuinely happy in so long then surely the kid can’t be too bad. Despite his beat up, border lining on homeless appearance he can’t imagine the kid was out getting into fights or a laundry list of other things he could be doing. It’s nice to see that light return to Julie’s eyes, sparked with happiness.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer III: Alliance

Nono allowed herself to be escorted back stage. Compared to the glitz and glam of the opera hall, the back stage was dingy, dim, dusty, and covered with signs of hasty and constant repair. 

This place was owned by the Devil Clan, she was sure of it. Backstage, everyone wore the Ghost pins. Everyone bowed to her as she passed. She stood in front of a black wood framed sliding door flanked by two women who bowed and opened it. 

She walked in alone. The door shut behind her.

Ruri Kazama sat, his back to her, facing a mirror, seated on an embroidered pillow. The voluminous crimson skirt spread out behind him.. She removed her shoes and stepped onto the Tatami.

He was removing the make up, creating a patchwork of male and female aesthetics on his face, as though the mirror were shattered.

“You want to tell me what that was all about?”

His hand paused. “Such beautiful face... yet you speak with the voice of an assassin.”

Nono removed her mask.

“Please, take a seat. I’ll be with you in a moment.” 

Nono obliged.  She took a deep breath and let it out. “Thank you for inviting me. I haven’t enjoyed a show like that in a long time.”

Ruri Kazama removed the pins from his hair, setting them aside. “I’m a person who tends to be lonely. Whenever I feel lonely, I’ll find the loneliest girl to keep me company.”

Ruri Kazama had a soft, haunting beauty, like that of one of the ancient Roman Satyrs. Unlike his brother’s stern, solemn and strict expression, Ruri had a dove-like innocence that was difficult to reject. “I would happily sing for you every night.” He said.

“Am I really that lonely?” She lifted her chin.

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Nono’s smile faded. “I thought there might be... another reason.” Really? She was suckered in by a male idol? “A guy like you shouldn’t have any problem finding lonely women. A talented celebrity and a leader of the Devil Clan. Out of all the women you cross paths with, I’m really the loneliest?”

“According to the Creed of the Secret Society that runs Cassell College, I am only fit to be isolated, imprisoned... There are few women in the same position. You are one of them.”

“How do you know that...” Nono whispered.

“Your file listed you as A-rank but your extra skills are classified. In fact... all of your team’s skills are classified. If they were part of the known and stable Soul Skills, why hide them?”

“Then isn’t my being here dangerous to you?”

“What did you really think of my performance tonight?” He turned to face her.

“I can’t say I was fond of the ending, but it followed the paintings on the hall of murals that got destroyed.” She said.

“Yes,” he nodded. “You were sent to Japan for a specific purpose and since then you have become enmeshed in a drama centuries old that you do not understand. Until you do, your chances of survival, much less escape, are slim. So I will educate you.”

“Izanagi is the first ancestor of the Hydras. Izanami is the White King, the only dragon who can challenge the Dark King. She gave Izanagi the bone and created the line of Japanese Hybrids you see today.”

“That bone holds the genetic resources for the White King. But it requires the purest blood to allow her to regenerate. Takamagahara under the sea... that is its resting place... or was.”

“Then why wasn’t this destroyed earlier... if you knew about it?” She asked.

“The Hydras don’t want to destroy it. Because Izanami promised them that when she wakes again, she will grant them her regenerative resurrection power. They will be pure blood dragons. They only pay lipservice to dragonslaying. Their true loyalty is to the White King.”

Nono was silent, then she says. “Okay. No wonder I feel trapped and fearful here.”

“The Gen Clan is called Amaterasu-no-mikoto. Tachibana is Tsukiyomi, Uesugi is Susano-O. Remember these names, because they are the greatest danger to you. The White King controls the Spirit in hybrids. She has the ability to drive them to do her bidding. No matter how sweet the words, keep this in mind.”

“Is she awake?” Nono whispered.

“Yes and no. The Lenin sank into the Takamagahara with the pure blood of an ancient dragon embryo and she fed on it. But like a newborn baby she can only crawl about, blindly reaching for what she believes to be her home. Like Yamata-No-Orochi, she is drunk. But it is only a matter of time before she sobers.”

He reached underneath his vanity stand and pulled out a tattered file. He handed it to her. “This is for you.”

She accepted it, glancing at him. Then she opened it. She found an old KGB emblem, along with regalia from MI6 and the CIA, and Mossaud. Then there was a picture.

“This person is called Bondarev. But today, his name is Tachibana Masamune.”

She sighed. “Oh... my god...”

“It was Bondarev on the ship with the Embryo. It was Bondarev who sank it.”

“How do you know?”

“I was there. I and my brother.”

She lifted her head to look at him. 

“There was an orphanage in Siberia where research was conducted on Hybrids. It’s where I lived and Chisei lived until we were taken away on a boat, along with the Dragon embryo.”

Nono closed the file, silent. He reached under the vanity again. “A few other things for you.” He handed her photos. “The Death servitors you encountered under Minamoto Heavy Industries? They lived there.”

“Hydra is still continuing the research that began in Black Swan Bay, Siberia.”

She stared at the photos, the giant ‘aquarium from hell’ as Carli had so distinctly put it on the submarine. There were also pictures of them being dissected and experimented on.

“They were originally human.” Ruri said.

Nono put one hand over her mouth. “Hydra needs to be destroyed.”

“You believe me...”

She put the photos in the folder. “I’ve NEVER truly trusted these people. Not since the Trieste. When Tachibana tried to kill us. But don’t get me wrong. The Devil Clan is also part of this little petri dish. You can’t fool me into thinking you’re heroes, like you fooled your audience.”

The Devil Clan and the Hydras are using the exact same technology.”

She froze. “How...?”

“Your reaction tells me you’ve come to the correct conclusion but I will tell you anyway to make sure we’re clear here. The same time that the Lenin sank into the sea, The Devil Clan got a new leader. Wang Jiang. Or as some like to call him, The General. He came preaching a new evolutionary drug to turn people into pure blood dragons. But it turned out to be a poisonous root leading to instability.”

“There is no dangerous bloodline. We in the Devil Clan are artificial unstable hybrids. Hydra knows who we are... because they helped create us. Tachibana is involved in both groups. One group led by Wang Jiang creates the Devils. The other cleans up the mess.” He gave  a bitter smile. “Oh... if only my brother knew.”

“Why would Tachibana tell you all this. There’s no way you’d remember what happened 20 years ago. You were a toddler!”

He tilted his head. “The General told me. The evolutionary medicine he creates and the research into death servitors conducted by Tachibana all have the same origin.”

“So they’re colleagues.” Nono said, quiet. “Is the name of the general, Herzog?”

“Yes.”

Nono sank against her heels.  “What’s your motive? Why tell us all this? You realize that Cassell’s going to come after the Devil Clan and the Hydras, right?”

“Yes. But you’re cooperating with me, not the Dragon Lord, not the Devil Clan. Herzog is a monster who will destroy anyone so long as it benefits him. What do you think will happen to me once the White King is resurrected? I’ll just end up devoured too.”

His voice lowered and he looked at her with glittering angry eyes. “Herzog took someone precious from me. And I will never forgive him.”

His expression then calmed. “Besides, you clearly have no true allies here. And I can take you directly to both Tachibana and Herzog. You have a golden opportunity coming very soon. In return, once Cassell finished, it can monitor me. I will withdraw from the Devil Clan and devote my life to Kabuki. Do we have a deal?”

“I can’t promise you anything but... yeah, I’ll vouch for you.” She smirked. “Better my word over Chisei’s anyday.”

“Careful going home.” He handed her her mask. “You were wise to wear this. This is a Devil Clan Kabuki theater. Had you not put this on, the Hydras would have easily associated you with this theater. As it is, they’re on their way. I must go.”

Nono’s eyes widened. She leaped to her feet and ran out the door heading for one of the back stage exits. All the Devil Clan members were already gone. It opened to an alleyway. She peeked around the corner. The Kabuki theater was already surrounded by black vehicles and men with heavy rifles.

Out of one black vehicle, a familiar figure got out his sword at his side. Chisei Gen.

She ducked back into the alley. “Shit!”

She pulled out her phone. “Carli! Get me out of here!” 

She texted her a picture of the nearest landmark, a Mcdonalds behind a bus station. “Do you teleport thing! I’m literally surrounded by Hydra and Chisei’s here!”

She backed further into the dark of the alley.

Within seconds, Carli appeared like a genie wearing a maid costume provided by the Takamagahara. She ran to her, held onto her, and together they disappeared into the dark.

[lesbianmonsterlover]

Female Werewolf x Female Reader (part 1)(SFW)

Hey, so, basically this was in my head and I had it get it out.  When I made it to page six with no end in sight, but at a good stopping point for now, I wanted to get out a post.  So I guess this is going to be a two-parter!

---

Your walk home from work always consisted of a trek through a dark alley between the back of two restaurants.  Most people were scared of the thought of walking down such a street at that hour of the night, but you knew that the presence of security cameras behind the two establishments meant that no one was dumb enough to stake out there in hopes of catching someone unawares.  You so rarely encountered anyone or anything else in that stretch of your walk - save for the occasional worker coming out the backdoor of their place of work with the trash - that when you began seeing the same battered looking dog regarding you warily night after night you started bringing it treats.  

The first time you stopped it was because you were carrying home some leftovers from a work lunch, your team had gone to a steakhouse and you couldn’t finish your strip steak, so you took it home to maybe have for dinner or over a salad for lunch tomorrow.  The thought went through your mind, though, as you approached the alley to maybe offer the meat to the sweet, sad looking pup.  Well, pup was probably the wrong term, but aren’t all dogs puppies really?  The creature was huge, you’d have guessed nearly waist height while standing on all fours, and a pure midnight black with one startlingly clear crystal blue eye.  They’d always eye you warily as you walked through the alley, although they never once raised a hackle or a growl your way even when you’d coo hello on your way past.

Before you can stop yourself you pull the little cardboard takeout box of steak out of your bag and pop open the lid, revealing half of a steak sliced into strips laid out along with some of those roasted potatoes.  You double checked to make sure nothing had any garlic (bad for a pupper’s stomach) and after being sure this was all safe for the big dog you walked into the alley intent on offering it to them.  

The huge canine was curled up in a ball where they usually were, deep in the shadows of a little alcove set into the building where their fire hookup was.  “Hey gorgeous.”  You croon down at the dog, but instead of continuing your walk, for the first time ever you squat lightly in front of the big creature and give it a tentative, closed mouth smile.  “My eyes were bigger than my stomach at lunch I guess, and I think you’d enjoy this more than I would tonight.”  You set the cardboard takeout box down, open, on the ground and shuffle it towards the dog, who meanwhile had perked up and began regarding you with a sort of aloof wariness.  You just sit there, looking happily and quietly at the dog as it sniffed first at the cardboard box and then at its contents before picking up a piece of steak and snapping it into their mouth with a satisfied rumble.  Content that the dog is happy and eating you stand and coo out a goodbye to the beautiful creature who doesn’t even look twice at you as you walk back home.  You’re maybe a little sad that you won’t have your leftovers tonight, but you happily pop in some of your frozen lasagna and can’t find it in you anywhere to regret feeding that dog.  

You had more than enough padding in your income, considering you’re single and don’t really do a whole lot other than work and hang out at home watching Netflix and partaking in your hobbies, that you didn’t think twice about starting to bring a little something for the dog every day.  Maybe you’d earn its trust, and you could bring them home!  And be friends!  You’d wanted a dog for a while, a furry cuddler who would want to hang out half on your lap while you pet its fluffy ears, but also a dog who would help make sure you get out of the house a few times a day and actually walk, do something.  The next day you stop in to the diner around the corner from your office to get a side of bacon, presenting it to the confused but happy dog with another smile.  You sit a little longer, talking lightly about your day and how excited you were to see them that evening.  “You know, seeing you is starting to be the best part of my day.  So I thought maybe I’d bring you some treats to let you know I appreciate it.”  You give another sweet, closed lip smile to the dog before standing and continuing on home.  You really, really want to pet the dog.  Their ears looked so soft!  But you didn’t want to invade their personal space, especially as a stray.  You didn’t want to get your hand bitten off, of course, but you also wanted to make sure that the dog continued to trust you.  

You brought something every day after work, five days a week.  The dog still didn’t let you touch them, but you started to notice them perking up before you came into the alley, and their tail had even started to thump a little against the ground when they sighted you.  You were three months into this arrangement when you were fired.  You knew why, you had denied the advances of a superior and they began making your life a living hell at work, writing you up over every infraction.  You were consulting with a lawyer but that didn’t stop it from scaring you.  You had to get your resume in order now and start a job search, could you use this place as a reference?  Probably not, well shit.  You’re empty handed today, and this time instead of squatting you kneel down heavily on the pavement in front of the dog.  You give them a sad smile.  “Sorry sweetheart, I’m empty handed today.  I know, I’m disappointing you, I’m sorry.  I got fired today, so money’s gonna be a little tight, and I don’t think I’m going to have an excuse to walk through this neighborhood anymore.”  

You’re crying now, fat tears running down your cheeks, and before you can lift a hand to wipe them away the dog licks one off of your cheek and whines at you.  “I’m gonna miss you sweetheart, I wish you’d come with me.”  With a shaking hand you hesitantly stroke up the dog’s neck and over the top of their head.  They let out a chuff that sounds like a resigned sigh before licking over your cheek again and pressing their cold nose into your neck.  It makes you giggle and scratch behind their ears.  When you eventually stand after calming down the dog also stands up.  It’s missing one foreleg, something you never noticed, although it doesn’t seem to impede their movement in the least.  You were right to think they were huge too, their back reaching up to the bottom of your rib cage.  You aren’t sure what to expect, you’re hoping they’ll follow you home you guess, but instead of doing that they just stand there watching you as you walk away.  You pause at the end of the alley and glance back, waiting a beat to see if they’ll join you.  When they don’t you deflate a little but continue your walk back to your little one story house.  

It’s in a neighborhood that isn’t great, but you’re quiet and keep to yourself and keep your head down.  People leave you alone, you don’t get in anyone’s business, and everyone’s happy.  You have a little yard surrounded by a short brick fence with an old wrought iron gate.  The gate had been in terrible condition when you bought the house, but a little elbow grease and some fresh paint had it looking good as new.  The whole house was a little dingy looking, but homey and put together.  The tiny front yard was full to bursting with flowers and plants, other than a little concrete path from the road to the front door.  The inside is cozy, thrifted furniture and handmade decorations.  You may not be rich, but you live quite happily within your means with enough leftover for some of your wants.  

You take the weekend to wallow.  You drink wine and eat ice cream and cry, binge watching shows and lying on the couch.  When you wake up on Monday though you feel a little better if slightly hungover, and you spend the day going over your resume and figuring out how to go about your job search.  When evening comes you’re interrupted by a sound out your back door that’s unfamiliar to you.  It’s almost like a knock, but not quite, and it’s followed by a thud and whine.  

The being standing at your backdoor, under the flickering warm light above the entryway, is huge.  Towering over you is a pitch black void of light standing on two powerful hind legs, holding a man in a ski mask up by his throat while he hangs limply from its clawed grip.  The creature is missing an arm and one of its eyes, and after a beat you recognize that whatever this thing is...it’s also the dog from behind the restaurant.  You faint. 

When you wake up you’re back on your couch, and as you blink up at the ceiling you recall your weird dream from earlier where the dog from the restaurant alley was standing outside your house.  But it wasn’t the dog, it was a werewolf.  Or it looked like a werewolf.  You chuckle to yourself before turning onto your side and promptly startling off the couch at the sight in front of you.  

The creature from what you were sure is a dream is sitting back on its haunches like a large dog, staring at you from its one intelligent blue eye.  It’s impossibly big, even sitting you think their head would reach the middle of your chest.  “Holy shit!”  You pop up from behind your coffee table to see the big creature cowering slightly and looking at you with their ears pinned back. 

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”  The rough voice of the creature hits your ears and you’re startled back into silent contemplation.  Okay, so, it can talk.  “Figured since you took care’a me, I’d keep watch over ya.  Found some guy sniffin’ ‘round your place so I took care of ‘im.”  

“Thank you.”  Your reply is a little quiet, and you’re staring slack-jawed at a creature that really, truly isn’t supposed to exist.  They huff out something that sounds like a laugh, although there’s a sort of self deprecating edge to it that you don’t like.  

“Yeah, this’s why I didn’t take ‘ya up on yer offer.”  They grimace, frowning as best as they can with their muzzle and sinking into themselves to make themselves smaller.  Immediately you try to perk up and break out of whatever your trance is.  

“No, no!  Please, don’t leave, I’m just surprised.  I didn’t think...I mean, I thought you were just a big...dog?  Obviously you’re not!  But I mean, you can’t blame me for being surprised can you?  Up until a few minutes ago werewolves were a fictional concept for me.”  They look a little sheepish at that, but settle down onto the rug in your living room and look at you curiously. 

“Keep fergettin’ humans ain’t connected with the super-nat’ral world no more really.”  They pin you with that icy blue gaze.  “You can feel our connection though, can’tcha?”  Your heart is racing, thrumming in your throat as you listen to the implication in that voice.  It’s true you’d felt drawn to that dog, but your heart always broke for poor strays out in the world.  You didn’t think it was any different to the feeling you’d get for any dog you saw regularly enough to get to know.  But sitting in front of you in this form there’s something about the pull that’s a little bit deeper, more intense.  “Can hear yer heart racing, pretty ‘lil rabbit.  Y’know, yer the reason I’m in this town in’the first place.”  You give a confused look and they chuckle raspily.  “S’the connection, ‘lil rabbit, we know to look for it when we start to feel it.  Was jes’ passin’ through to get back ta my pack, but I couldn’t leave without my mate.”  

“M-Mate?”  You can only ask that question in a small, soft voice as they chuckle at you again, languidly flowing up and stalking around the coffee table to tower over you from where you’re still sitting on the floor.  Their cold nose on your pulse point makes you shriek, but you bare your neck up rather submissively instead of pull away. 

“I was serprised too ‘lil rabbit, human mates’re rare shit.  ‘Specially for animals like me.”  They inhale deeply at your neck before licking up the column of your throat to your jaw.  “‘M a lucky woman, my ‘lil mate is cute as shit, ‘n you smell so fucking good.”  Your answering whimper prompts another low growl from her chest, and her jaw locks around your throat just enough to leave the imprint of her teeth on your neck.  When she sits back on her haunches and towers over you again her eye is sparking heat as she gazes at you.  “Was tryin’ ta figger out how ‘ta meetcha all natural like, but then ya stopped comin’ round ‘n tonight happened an’ I had’ta protect ya, rabbit, and when ya saw me and ya fainted I panicked.”  

Your laugh is loud and powerful, and you startle the werewolf into silence as she word vomits out at you.  Before she can look too upset though you lean forward and hug her, resting your head on her chest.  Her hand are is more like a human hand than a paw, although each finger is still tipped with harsh claws that make you shiver as they rake through your hair to scratch your scalp pleasantly.  You nuzzle your face into the fluffy fur of her chest, pleased to feel the give of small breasts beneath the dark fuzz.  Your content sigh has her let out a low rumble, laving her tongue across your ear in an affectionate swipe. 

“Well, I think you did just fine.  Protected me from a burglar and everything.  Thank you for that, by the way.”  You smile up at her, cupping her jaw with one hand as you tug her down to your level in order to place a chase human kiss on her snout.  She lets out a content little whine that makes you giggle, and settles her big head in your lap so you can card your fingers through her fur around her ears and down the back of her skull.  “What’s my mate’s name?” 

Her tail thumps wildly against the floor for a moment as she stares up from your lap with her eye wide and sparkling.  “Kara, ‘lil rabbit.  An’ don’t go ‘round callin’ me yer mate if you aren’t gonna accept the claim, sweets.”  Her growl has a low, seductive timbre to it in the end, and you swallow thickly before nodding.  “Already in dangerous territory rabbit, betcha didn’t know all’a those times ya fed me was you courtin’ me.”  Her smile is appropriately wolfish.  “Now how ‘bout your name?”  You stumble over introducing yourself, and the way Kara purrs your name back to you makes your insides flip pleasantly.  

“If I...I mean, if I were to accept the claim, what would that mean?  Remember, I’m a human, I’m kinda ignorant about all of this.”  You continue petting over her skull as she settles back into your lap, humming thoughtfully, her one arm moving to encircle you slightly, toying with the hem of your shirt where it lays against the floor at your hip.  

“Means yer mine, forever.  Kinda like marriage, but no divorce, not like yer gonna wanna leave me anyway rabbit.”  She gives you a one-eyed wink that still manages to make you blush.  “Means I take care’a ya, keep ya fed, housed, protected, warm, satisfied.”  The way she gazes up at you with promise at the last word makes you swallow thickly, trying not to shift your hips at the implication.  “Bring ya into my pack, you’d be parta the family.  I gotta ‘lil cabin out in the woods, most’ve us do since they mostly spend time in a human form, but it’s a place’a my own.  Feels awful lonely without my mate.”  

The two of you talk through the night, and fall asleep together in a pile on your living room floor.  Her story breaks your heart.  She wasn’t born into the pack she’s currently a part of.  Her original family couldn’t believe that their daughter had inherited their dominant gene while their son preferred to be much more passive.  But her parents took advantage of her need to be accepted and love, and forced her to spend so much time shifted that she gradually forgot how to shift back.  Her human form had been lost to her since she was a child, and while her new packmates were working on it - that’s actually the reason she’d been passing through your city in the first place, to visit a physician who was sympathetic to werewolves, and who thought they  might be able to help her reclaim her human form and therefore some semblance of normalcy and a place in broader society.

You’re surprisingly comfortable when you wake for someone who slept on the ground, but when you come to full consciousness you to find yourself draped fully over the big fuzzy woman you realize why.  You didn’t really sleep on the ground, you slept on a big fluffy cushion in effect.  You want to accept the claim.  It’s not like you had anything tying you here any longer.  Your family wasn’t here, your job was gone, you can lighten up your load, break the lease, and just...go with this.  This is the adventure you used to spend nights wishing for, really.  Less “knight-in-shining-armor” and more “fuzzy-mercenary-who-would-kill-for-you” but still, someone who said they were destined for you, swept you off your feet and made you feel special, beautiful, perfect just as you are.  

“Thinkin’ hard there, rabbit.”  You squeak a little and jump as you’re broken out of your thoughts by the rough sleepy voice of Kara.  She chuckles at your reaction and then laughs when you pout up at her in return.  “Oh no, not that look rabbit, ‘s too cute.”  She nuzzles into the crown of your head, still chuckling.  Rubbing her scent all over you and yours on her in return.  

“Well, if you have to ask, I was thinking about the fact that I want to accept your claim.”  That stills the woman beneath you, and you let you a little shriek when she abruptly sits up, taking you with her until you’re sitting astride her lap as she gazes down at you, your face caged in her big hand. 

“What did’ja say?”  Her voice is hushed and almost reverent, her thumb stroking over your cheek with an impressive amount of gentleness.  You smile up at her and place your hand over hers on your cheek, your eyes sparkling happily. 

“I said I want to accept your claim, Kara.  I feel it too, and the thought of staying in this shitty city without you here with me causes me physical pain.  Wherever you go, I want to go with you.”  She growls pressing her muzzle to your lips and pushing her tongue into your mouth in one swift motion.  She hums at your taste, angling your head to her liking so she can take her time mapping out all of the spots that make you writhe against her.  When she pulls away, panting heavily, you can see her one pupil is blown with arousal.  

“Not here, rabbit, when I claim ya it’s gonna be in my house on my bed so we can make it all ours.”

[roses-of-rutherglen]

Uniquely Normal- chapter 2

-Seamus-

Seamus had been waiting for his Hogwarts letter ever since he accidentally set the cats tail on fire when he was two and a half. So when it arrived upon on his eleventh birthday there was much celebration in the Finnegan household.

The trip to Diagon Alley was planned over a weekend as they would have to travel from Portarlington to London. Seamus couldn't sleep for excitement in the nights leading up to the trip, this would also be the first time his dad had been to Diagon Alley despite knowing about his wife being a witch for the last fifteen years of their marriage. The sun rose bright and early as the family of three hopped in the car bound for London with their suitcases, prepared for a long weekend of shopping and learning about the world that two of them were entering that year.

Seamus was almost bored to death after the innumerably long trip, finally stepping stiffly out of the car and trying to work some feeling back into his legs. They could have flooed but his mother was insistent on travelling as non magical people do and making sure they stay in touch with both the Muggle and Wizarding sides to their lives.

They walked through the streets of London's shopping district before coming to a shabby looking pub with the peeling sign reading 'The Leaky Caldron'. Funnily the rest of the population seemed to scan right over the pub looking from the record store on the right to the coffee store on the left.

"Come along you two" his mam beckoned "it may not seem like much but ye'll be surprised." Both males shook their heads and followed the over enthusiastic Irish witch into the dingy pub.

"Hey mam, why'd we stop comin' here again? Cause I distinctly remember comin' here when I was a wee one" his mother chuckled.

"You and I stopped coming when you started having random outbursts of setting things on fire and nearly burnt down Magical Menagerie when you got too excited about the "wee cute mousies" she put air quotes around the last few words and Seamus groaned burying his head in his hands.

"Ah yes, I do seem to remember your particular flair for pyrotechnics that Ye haven't quite grown out of" smiled his dad "good for St Pats but not much for every day." Seamus looked away pretending not to know who his parents were before being dragged along to a wall at the back of the building.

His mam took out her wand and tapped the first brick to the left above the dustbins. Watching with awe as the bricks shifted and reformed revealing a street that seemed filled with magic and life. Store displays danced and the street was filled with light, chatter, and children around his age and older coming in and out of the many stores along the street. Everything was painted in bright colours catching his attention and drawing him away from his parents to stare at moving displays or glittering advertisements. People filled the street and several times he nearly got lost, dragged away in the current of people.

"Come on Seamus, keep up" called his dad as they started walking up the street towards the huge white building that looked like it should be a royal palace. Painted pearly white with all the decoration you could think of. He quickly hurried to catch up to his parents. They passed the security goblins before entering a huge hall.

The floor was marble and the clerk's desks made of rich coloured wood. The Finnegan family headed for a free clerk that was next to a boy with dark skin and his mother who looked to be exchanging muggle money for Galleons, sickles and knuts.

"Alright mate?” Seamus greeted the boy, he nodded looking bashful before Seamus continued, "me names Seamus" the boy smiled and replied

"My names Dean" the two shook hands

"first year at Hogwarts I'm guessing?" Seamus queried Dean smiled

"yeah, big shock to my parents honestly I think they wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer" they both chuckled and Seamus was for once grateful for his half muggle upbringing. Dean looked like he was about to say something else but Seamus' mother called out for him to follow her "One second Ma," he called back at her "what were Ye gonna say mate?" Dean shook his head

"doesn't matter, see you on the first" they waved their goodbyes and the two headed off leaving the boy to the back of his mind as he and his parents walked out of the bank and down the street.

"Alright I'll go and get your books," said his mam "and you two head on down to Olivander's then we'll get everything else we need." She hugged both of them and was off before they could say a word. Seamus looked around a little nervously before his Dad called out and they walked down the street.

"I know I'm not the best with this Seamus, but I hope Ye know I'm trying me best" his Dad stuttered nearly running into a witch with long purple hair and robes that people kept tripping over. Seamus smiled

"I know ye're doin' your best and I definitely appreciate that. We'be both been thrown pretty much into the deep end here." They both chuckled and looked up to find themselves in front of one of the shabbier shops within the street. The peeling gold letters over the door read 'Ollivander's makers of fine wands since 382 BC.' A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion on the window and the door made a slight tingling noise as they entered. A man who looked as old and shabby as his shop appeared behind the counter.

"Ah, hello there how are you both doing today?" Asked the man in a voice that sounded way too young for his years.

"Okay thanks, a wee bit nervous but getting more comfortable, how're ye going today sir," Seamus answered and the man smiled.

"An Irish man eh? Don't get many here they tend to go to Varitas' in Dublin but I'm glad to meet you. What might your name be?" The man called wandering off into the stacks of shelves lined with narrow rectangular boxes

"Er, Seamus Finnegan sir." Seamus called back watching as the man returned with several boxes under his arms.

"Ah yes, I remember when your mother first came in for her wand, wonderful woman with a sweetheart and strong beliefs."

"I think we can easily say stubborn." Interjected Seamus' father, gaining a chuckle from Seamus and a knowing grin from the older man.

"Try this one why don't you" Ollivander suggested taking the cover off the box closest to Seamus. He took the box lifting out the jet black wand inside it. "Yew, 10 inches and a core of unicorn hair slightly springy, good for charms." Seamus picked the wand up unsure of what to do next. " Well go on give it a flick" Olivander prompted Seamus did so and the chair that his Dad had just been about to sit in flew out from his grasp and into the wall losing one of its legs.

“Nope" stated Ollivander handing him the next wand, "13 inches, cherry wood and a dragon heart strung core, give it a swirl." Seamus did so and a painfully high pitched ringing emitted from the wand. "Drop it, no again a slightly tricky customer" Ollivander smiled. Seamus was confused how in any way that could be a good thing but before he could ask Olivander was back.

“I think this will be the one," he said handing it over. It was a light coloured wand with a black line spiraling down the handle section. "Oak and ebony 12 inches and a Phoenix feather core, definitely one of our more unusual combinations but let's try it." Seamus lifted the wand and gently swished it, golden sparks appeared from the end and a warm sensation ran up his arm he smiled.

Olivander did too "well, we found one this is one of the first wands I ever made and it has never been able to find a person, these two kinds of wood mix strength and flexibility into one while the Phoenix feather core shows you are pure of heart and will to do the best for everyone. This is a wonderful match and as I'm sure you saw, the wand chooses the wizard."

He held his hand out and Seamus shook it before paying the thirteen galleons for the wand and walking out with it in the box. They met his Mam outside the ice cream parlor and started walking down the street.

"Since you took so long in there I got yer books, potion ingredients and robes. All we gotta do now is go to Magical Menagerie without you setting something on fire and get you a pet." She smiled talking a million miles an hour, the two boys smiled at each other before following her down towards the brightly painted shop.

They ended up getting a jet black fluffy kitten with eyes like a galaxy, named him Ebony and headed back towards the wall that had formed their entrance, which from this side looked like an old wooden door and headed back through the streets of London towards the car park.

But as they drove back to the hotel and he thought back on his day, the boy from Gringotts, Dean, popped back into his mind and he regretted not talking to the obviously muggle-born boy more. Maybe he could have helped him find his way or even offered to save him a seat on the train, but what was done was done and he just had to hope he could find him again when school started.

All of a sudden he felt very alone, being the only child in the neighbourhood with magic was tough. Whilst he had plenty of friends he had no one he could really talk to about magic apart from his mother who was at work a lot and though his father tried he really couldn't relate. He couldn't wait to get to Hogwarts, and to see Dean again.

<- chapter 1 here!!! Chapter 3 here!!->

[ongpinned-blog]

Binondo in 90 Minutes

by Julia Mae M. Catungal 

What do you do when you are tasked with exploring an exotic place with a loaded schedule and the afternoon sun glaring down at you? Why, you ditch the Google searches and Trip Advisors and just go wherever the heck your eager feet and famished guts take you. You’ll be delighted at how there are more than a few surprises along the way, and at the wonder of finding something unexpected and terrific on a whim, with one haphazard turn, or with a very fickle mind.

It was all very in the moment, when our Binondo expedition group was formed (and dispersed). Being a country bumpkin, I wasn’t quite sure of our travel path. Luckily, our group consisted of Manila locals. There are probably a number of ways on how to reach Binondo, some readily accessible to the public, and some opening its pathways to you which are unknown to many and only a few. Fortunately, for you and for me, we took the most convenient and cheapest route! If your starting point happens to be at Taft Avenue as well, then just catch a jeep going to Quiapo or Divisoria (if I am not mistaken…) and get off at Binondo church for just twelve pesos! Another budget-friendly and easy way is to go to Quirino LRT station and get off at Carriedo. From there, you can navigate your way to Binondo with your trusty guts and moody mobile data in case you get lost!

Arriving at the Binondo church, in front of a quaint grey and red building right in the middle of it all, my traveling companion and I parted from our initial Binondo expedition group and went our separate ways. Actually, I had been to Binondo before with my two lovely cousins who were astounded by the fact that I had never been to Binondo and so treated me to a sumptuous and fulfilling meal in the sketchy, lively Binondo streets at night. Unfortunately, I could not remember any of the restaurants we ate in except one. It was an easy recall as one of the restaurants happened to be located beside the Binondo church. Determined not to rely on my mobile phone and Internet connection, I took us there to a packed eatery with the yellow signage… Yes, my faulty memory is to blame, and unfortunately, I cannot remember the name of the place. But! It is easy to spot as it is situated along the column of shops and restaurants (facing the Binondo church) at the left side of the Binondo church.

My traveling companion and I were both too hungry and sweaty enough to just go with my guts, and enter the restaurant from my previous Binondo experience. Also, I had remembered what our cousins and I ate and drank. The place was air-conditioned and its meals affordable, not to mention there is a wall dedicated to celebrity photographs with the owner, telltale signs of a good place. For refreshments, I recommend their soya milk (Php45) or their Winter Melon Iced Tea (Php60). Originally, my cousins and I planned to eat at the best dumplings place in Binondo but found it closed that night, so my cousins settled for this restaurant. Their steamed vegetable dumplings are worth giving a try for just Php60. It tasted like the first legitimate dumplings I’ve had in my life then. My cousin said that it wasn’t as juicy and flavorful as the best dumplings in town, but it’s still a delicacy. The restaurant is also known for their rice meals, with the cheapest and best-seller Pork Chop rice meal priced at Php160. Almost everyone in that restaurant was having that, and being the gluttonous, impulsive buyer that I am, I had decided to get one for myself and boy, no regrets. It may have been the biggest slice of pork chop I had ever eaten in my life. Its batter was fried to crisp perfection, creating a yummy blend with the savory soy sauce (?) and of course, a generous serving of rice.

I think it’s fair to say you can find virtually everything you need in Binondo. In the same row of stores where the restaurant we ate in belonged to, we had already passed by a jewelry store, a novelty gift shop, and even a pet store. Not too far off from where we started, we had randomly entered a district of the same running theme: food and fruit stalls here, a Chinese pharmacy there, ooh, a mall over there, and even a condominium! In this tiny town, you’d never have to leave!

It was to a spark of wonder that my companion and I then stumbled upon a shrine. I'm not certain whether a shrine or altar is the appropriate term, but it would seem as if it was a hybrid of Christian and Buddhist beliefs. Encased within an alcove near the entrance of a street, an imposing golden cross sat with an elaborate necklace made of small white flowers and red ribbons laid over it. Ornamental flowers lay as offerings, and on the walls hung prayer guidelines. At the far-right corner, a candle burned beside a cylindrical container brimming with red incense sticks. And right at the center rested a golden pot for filled with burning red incense sticks. But perhaps it was the solemn mood created by the devout people gathered there that drew our attention the most. Considering that the Philippines' primary religion is Roman Catholicism, this wasn't so bizarre to see at the oldest Chinatown in the world. Not to mention Manila could also be considered a melting pot of rich culture, diverse religions (near Quiapo church is the Golden Mosque), and deeply-rooted traditions from the Chinese, Indian, Korean immigrants we have welcomed today.

After pausing and observing the people in front of the shrine/altar, we moved on to a narrow, crowded street with the auspicious color of red evident at every turn: red Chinese lanterns, red signages, red painted walls, red roofs. Early on, I had considered walking the alleys of Binondo to be a sensory overload as well. Aside from seeing red, the various tongues spoken there streamed through our ears, too––from Chinese folk music to passers-by speaking in Chinese (whether Cantonese, Mandarin, or Hokkien, I, of course, couldn't really tell). Our noses couldn't escape as well, particularly when we'd pass by a busy restaurant or the ornate bridges atop polluted rivers.

Any change of course we took, it would seem that business and commerce thrive, whether it be a populated avenue or sketchy alleyway. On that note, we returned to our ever-recurring theme of all-in-one alleys of Binondo. There was this particular alley we took that I was truly captivated by. It stretched for quite a length, with every step of the way an eye-opening experience. At first, I was struck with panic for a split-second or two as I had observed how sketchy-looking it seemed. Thank goodness my curiosity got the better of me, and we trudged on. We first passed by auto supply shops, auto repair and maintenance shops, and craft stores. It reminded me of Pandan street back in my hometown in Pampanga which specialized in wood works and auto supply shops as well. But, boy, was I mistaken. Imagine our wide stares as we stopped in our tracks in front of a dingy eatery selling exotic cuisine. Just outside lay their fresh (?) ingredients and rows of bite-size of god-knows-what in sticks. There were also both spacious and cramped tanks holding fish and crustaceans alike. Imagine our dismay when in addition to having a limited time of only two hours, we also only had a budget of three-hundred pesos, which we had prematurely spent on the first and only restaurant we went in.

After this all-in-one alley, we turned to another random street. I recall the name of the street: Escolta for the fact that at first, I had thought it was deserted compared to the previous streets we’ve walked. It provided the same auto supply and auto repair shops, but with a surprise snacks and milk tea restaurant at the other far end, and a KTV on the next street! That’s when I had confirmed that map or no, you’re guaranteed to find something new and exciting in Binondo wherever your feet and wanderlust take you. If I am not mistaken, I think we also passed by what I assume is the first branch of David’s Teahouse? I thought it was super cool that we did.

Our last stop was what I also assume as the jewelry district of Binondo. Gold and silver all around inside glass boxes where prospective and beady-eyed customers lean over and attentive storekeepers stand behind. It was at this particular area that I tightened my grip on my bag while my eyes flitted about caught by all the bling-bling. Unfortunately for us, time was ticking and we took our leave as quick as all the gold and silver would glimmer and catch your fancy.

It was probably luck and circumstance, but we eventually set ourselves on the way home. We had ended up in another shopping district situated on the flanks what I guessed as the main highway of Carriedo. We passed under the front facade of these buildings supported by aged pillars. Even then we gawked at antique and surplus shops, a movie house which shows… bold films, ukay-ukay and music stores, local obscure bakeries, and even a Puregold grocery.  From the familiar hustle of the highway, historic malls, and the overlapping train tracks above, I soon confirmed it as Carriedo and figured if we continued walking, we’d eventually reach the LRT station. It was kind of funny because we were actually nearer to Doroteo Jose station, and once we got there, we figured that we’d take the jeep again as my companion was in possession of a water bottle. We took the chance and swiftly got on the next jeep we saw, right on schedule as we had about fifteen minutes to spare for the ride back to campus. So, in actuality, we had spent roughly seventy-five enchanting minutes in Binondo.

[clan-fuildarach]

citadel under siege 

delta, seafra, and neven make it to the rezann’s citadel, which is currently held by president robin and her forces against the commander himself. and it looks like delta may know some information that is pertinent to robin’s whole operation

~

Delta had seen a couple of towns in his lifetime. He'd seen the fortresses of the Blacksand Annex and Court Dorchadas. He'd travelled through clans so big that they were townships in their own right. But he'd never seen a city before, let alone a city like this.

The walled citadel on the coast of the Starfall Isles was bigger than any fortress, a dense, sprawling jungle of buildings and roads and train tracks that seemed to have sprouted organically from the bare earth, unplanned. The buildings coated the coastline, their white walls gleaming in the sun, surrounded by huge walls that cut it off from the land to the east and left it open to the sea to the west. But the city had outgrown its own walls in a rather spectacular fashion; unable to spread outwards, it had chosen to grow vertically instead.

Enormous chunks of pink crystal, each one large enough to support a medium-sized clan of dragons, floated over the city. They were connected by bridges made out of densely-woven rope and wooden slats that wouldn't break if the crystals shifted. Buildings grew from the sides of the crystals like cells in a wasp nest, each with its own projecting landing platform for visitors.

The crystals floated quite close together, by the ground, until they almost blocked the light from reaching the terrestrial portion of the city. Further up, the crystals thinned out, until there were only a scant few grazing the base of the clouds.

Both Delta and Seafra had spent the entire morning since their arrival at the citadel by train simply staring. Neven was less impressed; they'd been to the citadel before.

“What happens if one of them falls?” Delta said, his eyes fixed on the cluttered view above. He and his companions were sitting outside a vegetable market by the edge of the cliffs.

“They don't,” Neven said, sorting through their bag of belongings (most of which had been stolen from the train) for anything that they could use in the market to trade for food.

“And people just accept that?” Seafra said, casting the floating crystals a dark look. “I'd go mad, living with those things above me like that.”

“I suppose they're enchanted,” Delta said. He couldn't look away from the crystals. Not only did they float as if weightless, they were moving, too. Like the gears of a clock they seemed to be circling overhead in a fixed pattern so intricate that Delta could hardly imagine the work that went into ensuring they didn't simply crash in mid-air. But there they were, drifting serenely overhead, blocking out the sun every few minutes.

Seafra stretched out her arms and yawned. “Right, so what's the plan for today?”

Delta didn't register her question for a moment. Then he blinked and glanced over at her. “I guess we need to find any signs of your clan, or... or mine.” He didn't really want to think of Clan Fuil Darach right now. The last time he'd seen the clan it had been held hostage, cut down to barely six dragons, stranded in the middle of the enormous desert in the heart of Dragonhome. Guilt washed over him; he'd abandoned his own clan. Maybe it was best if he didn't go back at all. They probably didn't even want him.

“So we'd better ask around,” Seafra said. She nudged Neven. “Anything good in there? I'm starving.”

Neven held out a single gem. “This is all we have.”

Seafra stared glumly at it for a moment before taking it. “It'll buy us breakfast at least. Any requests, Delta?”

“Anything,” he said with a shrug. “I'm – hey!”

A dragon from the crowd of pedestrians had snatched the gem right out of Seafra's hand. With a loud oath she shot after them, the two of them vanishing into the crowd.

This may have been the biggest city in the northern hemisphere, but it was obvious that it had been under a lot of stress lately. It had been occupied by a foreign force, and recently – hours after Delta's group had arrived – the walls and borders had been shut off to newcomers and visitors. The city was, officially, under siege. With the trade routes cut, it was only a matter of time before the stockpiles began to dwindle and more and more dragons turned to thievery.

“Maybe we shouldn't have come here,” Delta said quietly, leaning back against the white stone wall bordering the market. “It's too dangerous.”

“Yes, it is dangerous,” Neven said. “But it's safer here than it is outside. The citadel is almost impervious to attack, even if the one doing the attacking is the Commander.”

That was what the town criers had been shouting about all morning – the gathering of the Commander's troops on two sides of the citadel. He was attacking from the land and the water, catching the citadel between two different forces. His ships choked the harbour beyond the base of the cliffs, further cutting off the city's supply routes.

A battalion of soldiers marched past, bearing the standard of the city's new president, Robin. Two spanners crossed under a twisting flame. Delta didn't know much at all about Robin, but he'd learned a lot since arriving at the city. People said that she was an unparalleled genius, that she'd single-handedly placed all the train tracks in the Isles, that she was the only hope the dragons ever had to defeat Rezann. But it hadn't all been favourable information. People said she was a fraud, that her inventions were a worthless mimicry of what magic could already do, that she didn't stand a chance. Opinions were mixed.

“Delta,” Neven said quietly. “I... I don't like it here.”

Delta was already painfully aware of this. He slung an arm around Neven's narrow, bony shoulders. “We won't be here for long. All we need to do is ask around about our clans, or buy a map or something.”

“Mm.” Neven leant against Delta's side with a sigh. “You know I used to live here. With the Commander.”

“I thought you lived in the barracks?” Delta absently stroked his fingers through their hair.

“I lived here first. This is where he found me.”

Seafra elbowed her way through the crowds, muttering obscenities under her breath. She had not retrieved the gem from the thief. Without a word she came to stand beside Delta her hands spread to show her failure.

“There goes our breakfast,” she said. “Now what?”

“I know where we can find food,” Neven said, pushing away from Delta to stand up straight. They brushed their ragged tunic down self-importantly. “It is an, uh... a place for homeless dragons to find food. It's near here.”

They beckoned and set off. Delta and Seafra trailed along after them, Seafra still cursing under her breath.

“So how do you know this place?” Delta said, as the three of them turned off the main market square and down a narrow alley.

“Well,” Neven said. “I grew up here. This is where my parents left me, when I was young. I almost died, but somebody found me and brought me to the shelter. During the day I couldn't stay there so I slept outside, but I'd come back every night. And then one day I got arrested for begging in the wrong place, and that was how the Commander found me.”

Delta had only heard scraps of this story before. He'd never heard the first part, that Neven had been abandoned. A fragment of memory struck him; the iron-grey sea and white cliffs of the northern Sunbeam Ruins. The desperate grinding hunger and Luke's voice frantically reassuring him that their father would be back soon. All they had to do was wait, and he'd be home.

He stared at Neven's back, his heart breaking. “I'm so sorry, Neven,” he said.

“Yes, well,” Neven said, “it's over now. The Commander saved me. You don't need to be sorry.” With a dismissive wave, they led the pair of guardians down a set of terraced steps. They travelled through increasingly dim and dingy streets, until eventually coming to a nondescript door with the symbol of the Eleven painted over the frame. Neven knocked, then pushed the door open.

It was half-church, half-hostel. Rows of beds lined the walls, and at the end wall was a collection of small shrines, candles burning for each deity. A strong smell of stew filled the air; there was a kitchen area off to one side and a queue of dragons waiting to be served.

As Delta stepped inside, something caught his eye. He turned, frowning, then ran over to the noticeboard just opposite the door. The board was plastered with various notices, including an announcement that the city was under siege and a list of rooms that were currently to-let. But right in the centre was a new notice.

It was a printed illustration of a clan crest. Two oak leaves and an acorn. The text under it read REWARD OFFERED FOR ANYONE WHO CAN IDENTIFY THIS SYMBOL.

He snatched the sheet off the board, then quickly ran back to Neven and Seafra.

“Look!” He brandished the sheet of paper. “That's-”

“That's your clan crest.” Seafra said, her eyebrows rising.

Neven was talking to one of the shelter workers. The worker frowned oddly at Delta, then sidled over. “You know that crest?”

“Yes, that's my crest,” Delta said. “Who wants to know? Who put this here?”

“President Robin's troops have been distributing those all morning,” the worker said. “Apparently it's important to her, for the war effort.” They shrugged. “That's all I know.”

Delta flipped the page over. There was an address on the back, and a small printed map. “Okay,” he said, “you guys stay here and eat. I'll go and check this out.”

“Whatever you like,” Seafra said, “but be careful, okay?”

Delta hesitated for a moment, then tugged off the leather cord from around his neck. He took Neven's hand and carefully pressed the cord – and the tiny pouch that contained his charge – into their palm.

“Keep it safe,” he said.

“I will.” Neven seemed to understand the enormity of the gesture. They closed their fingers around the acorn pouch with a tiny nod, a spark of rare emotion entering their voice for a moment. “Be back soon.”

Delta pressed a kiss to their cheek, then left.

The map was easy enough to follow, once he understood which way was which. He walked at a brisk pace for a couple of minutes, missing the tiny weight of his charge against his chest. It was odd, though – he didn't feel nearly as anxious as he thought he'd feel, leaving it behind.

Eventually, he found himself standing outside a small barracks near the wall of the city. President Robin's banner had been strung over the door, hiding the old moth sigil that had been carved into the wall behind it.

He knocked, then let himself in. The place was utilitarian and bare, full of soldiers. Behind a small barrier were shelves and shelves packed with equipment.

A soldier approached Delta, spear in hand. “State your business.”

Delta raised the sheet of paper like a shield. “It's about this,” he said.

The soldier quickly lowered the spear. “Do you know that crest?”

There was no way of telling if Delta was helping his clan or hurting it by identifying the crest to the soldiers here. But this was the only way he had of locating his clan and somehow reuniting with it. So he nodded. “Yes. That's Clan Fuil Darach's crest. I'm the – er, I mean, I used to belong to that clan.”

Everything passed in a rush after that. The soldier brought Delta into the barracks and told him to wait. He sat by the wall, his heart pounding as soldiers moved all around. Someone offered him a cup of tea. This heartened him; if he was being imprisoned or interrogated, they wouldn't be giving him tea. He hoped.

Finally, the door of the barracks opened again and a new guardian strode in. She was tall, her long hair pinned back. Her uniform was devoid of any fancy details, a utilitarian black, but somehow Delta knew that she was someone important. Trotting behind her was a young bespectacled skydancer boy and a mirror swathed in greenish-brown furs, a giant bow at her back.

The guardian came to a halt in front of Delta. “My name is Robin,” she said. “Now. Tell me all you know about this Clan Fuil Darach.”

“Why?” Delta said, thoroughly taken aback.

“Because,” she said, “two nights ago a ship bearing this standard-” She held up the poster of the crest again- “was seen in the bay between Arcane and Wind territory. At that time, Commander Rezann's army was trying to make land with a quarter of his artillery in that bay. We tried to stop them, but they destroyed our defences with ease. And then this one ship – this tiny civilian vessel – somehow took out the entire flotilla, artillery and all.” She lowered the poster and rolled it up with a few deft movements.

“Oh,” Delta said quietly. “Is that bad?”

“Bad?” she said, her dark purple eyes widening. “It's amazing. We need that ship on our side. It could be an invaluable resource. Right now we're under siege from three sides, and if not for that ship it would be four. If you could help us, we'd be so grateful. Not to mention the reward...”

Delta cleared his throat, trying to avoid the somewhat creepy gaze of the mirror behind Robin. “All right,” he said. “I'll tell you what I know.”